Chapter 18 – The Happiest Place in California
Jake hadn't gotten much sleep.
It wasn't the ocean, or the creaky old beach house, or even Rose peeking through the window that kept him up.
It was Charlie.
Or more specifically, the woman Charlie had brought home.
Loud. Laughing. Then not laughing. Then a lot of screaming—not the horror movie kind. The kind that made Jake bury his head under a pillow and wonder if he should invest in noise-canceling headphones before stocks.
By the time morning came, he dragged himself into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and mildly traumatized.
Charlie stood at the stove in a robe, flipping pancakes with a grin like he'd just come off a world tour.
"Sleep okay?" he asked casually.
Jake sat down, deadpan. "Do you have any idea how thin the walls are in this house?"
Charlie smirked. "Sure do."
---
Later That Morning – Disneyland, Anaheim
Jake never thought a theme park could be strategic.
But there they were, Jake and Alan, standing in front of the Disneyland entrance with pre-paid tickets and a surprisingly decent game plan. Alan had insisted they hit the classics first.
They started with Space Mountain, the iconic indoor rollercoaster that turned out to be faster—and darker—than Jake remembered from watching commercials.
"Not bad," Jake said afterward, slightly winded.
Alan grinned. "Told you. Nothing like simulated interstellar travel to kick off the day."
They rode Big Thunder Mountain Railroad next, the rickety, old-west-style coaster that made Alan scream louder than Jake did.
Then came Pirates of the Caribbean, which gave them a moment to relax and laugh as animatronic pirates argued over rum and sang off-key.
Jake actually smiled. A real smile. Not a calculated smirk, not an "I-know-more-than-you" grin—just a kid enjoying a ride.
It shocked him a little.
He'd always seen Alan, through the lens of the show, as a leech. A mooch. A walking cautionary tale. He used his brother, lied constantly, complained more than he breathed.
But here?
Alan wasn't whining. He wasn't trying to offload blame or fish for sympathy. He was... being a dad.
Buying Jake a churro. Telling lame jokes. Holding his arm up like a seatbelt on Indiana Jones Adventure. Even letting Jake steer the teacups—after making him swear not to spin them too fast.
For the first time since arriving in this new reality, Jake started to wonder if maybe Alan wasn't entirely the man-child sitcom loser the show had made him out to be.
Maybe there was more to him.
Maybe there was more to all of them.
Absolutely! Here's the next chapter as Jake returns from Disneyland and starts thinking big—really big.
The sun was just starting to dip into the ocean as Jake and Alan pulled into the driveway of Charlie's Malibu beach house. The day had been perfect—churros, rollercoasters, and Alan not being the awkward, self-pitying weasel Jake remembered from the show. For once, Jake let himself enjoy being a kid.
But now?
Now his brain was back online.
After Alan dozed off on the couch, sunburned and snoring, Jake stood by the deck's glass doors, staring out at the Pacific and thinking one thing:
I need to scale.
Trading was great. Profitable. Efficient. But it wasn't enough.
If Jake wanted real influence—generational wealth—he needed something bigger than a portfolio. He needed an empire.
That's when it hit him.
Facebook.
2003. Harvard. Zuckerberg hadn't even written a line of code yet. But Jake knew the timeline. Knew what it would become. The platform. The culture shift. The ad revenue. The IPO.
He could beat him to it.
Or build something better.
Then he thought of another name: Twitter.
Short-form posts. Real-time updates. Global communication in 280 characters. It wouldn't go live until 2006 in the world he remembered—but now? He could build it first.
He started pacing the deck.
What else?
YouTube – Launched in 2005. He could start a simple video-sharing platform now, even with basic compression tools. Let the users generate the content.
Reddit – 2005. He remembered it well. Forums, communities, upvotes—he could build an early prototype now and outpace their whole evolution.
Spotify – 2008. The licensing would be complicated, but the idea? Streamlined, ad-supported digital music libraries? That could be gold.
Airbnb – 2008. With Charlie's house as a model, he could easily pitch the idea of short-term, peer-to-peer rentals for travelers.
Uber – 2009. GPS wasn't everywhere yet, but cell phones were catching up. Ride-hailing tech would be doable sooner than people thought.
He could beat every single one of them to market.
Jake sat at the desk in his bedroom and pulled out a notepad. Across the top, he wrote:
"PROJECT: FUTURE"
And under it, a list:
Social Network (beat Facebook)
Microblogging (beat Twitter)
Video Sharing (early YouTube)
Community Forum (Reddit but better)
Music Streaming (Spotify alt.)
Vacation Rentals (Airbnb pre-build)
Ride-Hailing (Uber framework)
Jake's hands were shaking, not from nerves—but from potential.
He didn't just have a head start.
He had a ten-year map of the internet's future—and the tools to shape it.